The Proud Young Master
by TwoSidesOfACrazyCoin
Summary: "Why you- are you questioning my authority?" The prince sat up angrily in his seat. At this Francis smiled sweetly again", why of course not, your highness. C'est impossible." It was the start of a long and awful friendship. (human AU, medieval times, prince and servant story, one shot, may have a second part in the future, friendship that can be seen as the start of something more


**It's been sitting in my folder for months, and I decided to finally release it into the wild. Enjoy!**

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_**~The Proud Young Master~**_

Francis had never seen such a proud creature as that little prince who sat by the fountain. He knew what horrible things could happen once he- a mere servant boy, no matter how charming, was found in the private part of the royal garden, where only the young royalty were allowed to go and play. And yet Francis crept closer to the prince, and even though he simply sat unmoving, absorbed in a book, the pride he held himself with was clear and evident, and for some reason it fascinated Francis.

The prince himself had a pleasant face, with intense green eyes topped with strangely thick eyebrows that seem to have a sort of charm of their own. He wore a dress shirt and pants, his footwear tossed off and lying in the grass nearby, his blond hair tousled and his lips curled into a small pleasant smile.

Hidden in the shrubbery, Francis thought of running away, as he had only come on a whim, and he still wore one of the precious night gowns his mother had given him some time before her unfortunate death. Surely, even though he took great care of his appearance, even with his- as all the adults had so told him- charming demeanour, golden locks and attractive cerulean eyes, the little prince was still so much grander, so much more dignified and so much more attractive than he.

Suddenly the prince looked up, and the small smile blossomed into a full one, as little fluttering lights approached him, dancing about and making queer, cheery bell noises. Francis knew what they were, as he had gone to the previously desolate garden many times before, when there used to be no young royalty using it. They had been quite curious of Francis at first; the little faeries were, as it was rare for any human to look both as beautiful and handsome as Francis did, they had reasoned. They taught him many great things, as they were older than anyone and everyone, and they knew of all the things that had happened in and near that little garden.

"So they were friends with the prince, too," Francis murmured to himself, careful to keep his voice low so as not to be discovered even by the skilled little faeries. He watched as the prince conversed in quite an intimate manner with them, asking them strange things, fun things and things Francis wanted to know about as well.

Francis felt suddenly as if he was intruding in an intimate ritual, a secret friendship, and he had no right to do so. He thought of running away, back to his sad little room with the grown up servants, but just as he did a faerie happened to glimpse his frail little figure, and she apparently thought it fun to introduce the two young men. She drew the prince's attention with a shrill tingle of her bell-voice, and Francis was suddenly staring into brilliant green gems rapidly losing all its lustre right before his own eyes.

"W- who are you?" the prince asked in a proud, somewhat boyish voice, closing his book and shifting slightly. The faeries giggled about him, and they greeted Francis accordingly. The prince glanced from the faeries to Francis, an unspoken question in his eyes.

But Francis felt, in his young heart, that the prince held his friendship with the faeries dearly, and knowing that a servant boy had a similar friendship would not do well for his precious princely pride. It was as if those green gems had nothing but pride to put light in them, and it was wrong to take it away.

"Pardonnez moi," Francis said", I am merely a servant, your highness. Francis Bonnefoy."

The prince's proud nose scrunched up, and his charming eyebrows furrowed", a Frenchman," he muttered, as if imitating a grown up. After this he looked imploringly at Francis, and asked almost accusingly", do you see them?"

"See what?" though Francis knew exactly what he meant.

"Them," the prince insisted, gesturing to the faeries, who stared at Francis in bewilderment", the faerie folk seem to know you, Francis."

Francis wished- he wished so_ dearly_ that he could apologize in advance for what he was about to do. But he could not, and by doing so, he was never going to be able to.

"I don't know what you are saying," Francis said, and he kept his eyes from flickering to the indignant little faeries, who huffed and tinkled their little bell-voices at him angrily. Instead he added, in a tight voice", I don't believe I have ever seen faeries here, young master."

The prince's proud face seemed to imitate the faeries around him, and he flushed with anger", why- that's absurd, they're right in front of you! They were greeting you just a few seconds ago!"

But the faeries had made up their minds, and as it was in their enigmatic nature, if they were denied, they would deny as well. They spoke to the prince in protest, saying they did not know such a rude and ugly young boy. The prince spoke to them in a hushed harsh tone, and when he looked up again, Francis was already gone.

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"What would the young master like me to do?" Francis found himself asking this question only a few weeks later. After the little meeting in the garden Francis had been too nervous to go back to the place he used to treat as his escape from the world. Instead he was forced to keep as far away as possible from it, dreading another meeting with the proud prince. But then started the rumours, about how the spoiled little prince seemed to be unsatisfied with all the servants given to him. In an attempt to quell his roguish behaviour, the king ordered a servant around the same age as the prince itself, thinking he might find comfort in someone who didn't traditionally have power over him, such as a grown up.

Said prince stared at him with a bored expression, looking him up and down in his dainty little frock, before speaking", I hate you," he said quietly", you're a bloody frog, you know that?"

Francis drew a blank face for a moment, before smiling sweetly", at least I'm a handsome little frog, oui?"

The prince scoffed", you're the ugliest frog there is, I bet. And don't you dare speak that froggy language around me, do you understand?"

"…Non," Francis frowned, nose in the air", My language is far more beautiful, et I would rather die than not speak it!"

"Why you- are you questioning my authority?" The prince sat up angrily in his seat.

At this Francis smiled sweetly again", why of course not, your highness. C'est impossible."

It was the start of a long and awful friendship.

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**Tell me what you thought of it, yeah?**


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